


Diamonds and Belladonnas

by herwhiteknight



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Attempt at Humor, Background Relationships, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Movie: D.E.B.S, Romance, blake as lucy diamond, cause i couldnt resist including greek freckles in this au. i saw my chance and i took it, it's the DEBS au people have been asking me for!, yang as amy bradshaw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22912681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herwhiteknight/pseuds/herwhiteknight
Summary: Yang twists one arm around the wire of her spy-approved swing seat, lifting her binoculars to her eyes with her free hand. “Wow, Blake Belladonna she’s…,” she starts, peering through the lens at the woman who’s half-slouching across from Neon.“What?” Weiss prompts her, adjusting her earpiece and fiddling with the dial on her microphone to catch the conversation below.Yang shakes her head, overcome with a feeling of… something. “Real.”
Relationships: Blake Belladonna & Sun Wukong, Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Ilia Amitola/Pyrrha Nikos, Ruby Rose/Sun Wukong
Comments: 9
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here I am. Starting another AU. I have higher hopes for this one because I'm actually gonna be mostly sticking to a predetermined script/plot. Obviously, I'll be adjusting some things here and there to make it hopefully a little more in character, but I did have to bend some canon personalities (mostly Ruby) just a little to suit the AU.
> 
> If you haven't seen D.E.B.S, I highly recommend. It's cheesy, campy and really gay. Just good shit all around.

_“Huntresses!”_

Weiss bolts upright in her bed, gun already in hand and outstretched as if to ward off an enemy. Her eyes flicker left, then right, before she sighs. It’s just the wake up call. Something she _should’ve_ been adjusted to by now. But they trained her well, and she’d _always_ be ready. She had to prove herself as a capable leader to Ozpin, after all. And more importantly, to Goodwitch…

_“We don’t have all day, it’s time to rise and shine!”_ Ozpin’s voice echoes through the house, blaring through every speaker that’s open. Including the phone on the wall that’s in the hallway outside of the common area that leads to their rooms. _“Let’s go ladies, we have an emergency-!”_

Weiss ignores it, for the time being, huffing out a long sigh as she forgoes getting her things packed for the day to wake up the rest of her lazy, _always slacking_ , teammates. She pounds on Ilia’s door first, figuring she’d get the worst one over with, and already dreading what she’d find. “Ilia, come on,” she grumbles, sticking her head in through the doorway, frowning at the lumps on the bed covered by blankets. “Ozpin’s freaking out. Get up.”

One of the lumps shift, and a blanket is thrown back, revealing a grumpy and out of control bedhead. She just glares as Weiss tilts her head in exasperation.

“Fine. Five more minutes,” she gives in, throwing her hands up in the air before whirling on her heel to continue her task of getting her team in order. She stops dead in the hallway after a few steps, suddenly registering the second lump. _Gods, not again._ She turns back with another loud sigh. “And _no civilians upstairs_!” she snaps.

Ilia glances over as a redheaded girl pops out sheepishly from under the covers. She shrugs apologetically, “Sorry baby, you gotta go,” she points to the window as she slides off the bed. She pulls back the rest of the blankets to reveal the girl’s shirt and pants. “And don’t forget your clothes - they’ll freak if they find civvies in with the uniforms in the laundry again.”

“I get it,” Pyrrha teases, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to Ilia’s cheek. “You’re too important for me.”

“Not in my wildest dreams, Pyrrha,” she smirks. “Now, out the window with you, babe.”

She tosses a mock salute as she shimmies back into her jeans, throwing on her hoodie over her bare torso. "See you tonight when you're done saving the world?" she grins, lifting the window latch. Ilia just rolls her eyes, pulls on her uniform and adjusts her tie.

Out in the hallway, Ozpin’s voice still echoes as useless background chatter - _emergency this, urgent matter that,_ as if everything isn’t an urgent matter in some form or another for the huntresses. Weiss presses forward with her task of ensuring her teammates are up and dressed. “Ruby,” she says, poking her head into her overwhelmingly red room, “Five minutes.”

Ruby turns, thankfully already out of bed and dressed, looking distressed. “Have you seen my gun?” she asks helplessly. Weiss just shoots her a long-suffering stare before turning and slamming the door on her as she rummages frantically through her laundry. 

And just as Weiss is about to finally head back into her own room to gather her stuff - _Yang at least she could count on to be ready without reprimand_ \- the phone rings, mercifully cutting off Ozpin’s continued shouting through the internal pager. But the voice on the other end of the line is hardly welcome either. “Huntress Headquarters, this is Weiss,” she answers.

“Oh, Weiss, hey,” an irritating, gravely drawl sounds in her ear. “Look, is Yang like, awake? She’s not answering any of her texts or anything, can you put her on? It’s Cardin.”

Because _of course_ it’s Cardin. She doesn’t dignify him a response, just pulls the phone away from her ear and shouts down the hall towards Yang’s room. “Yang, it’s for you! Guess who,” she finishes under her breath.

Yang shoves her gun into her backpack before picking up the phone that sat on her dresser. “I don’t have time for any of this, Cardin,” she snaps before he can even get a word in edgewise.

“Look, baby, it was all just a misunderstanding last night, that’s all!” he pleads.

“We’re not having this conversation right now. Or honestly, _at all_ ,” she says, slamming the phone back down before glancing in the mirror to smooth the creases of her blue plaid skirt. She’s just about to zip up her bag and head down when her personal cell phone rings. Against her better judgement, she flips it open to answer.

“Listen, sweetheart, I just want to talk things through, that’s all!”

“This _really_ isn’t a good time, Cardin,” she shuts him down once more, throwing her phone into the dark depths of her bag.

Her personal pager pings on her bed next. The screen lights up, revealing Cardin’s pathetic puppy dog pout that _so_ wasn’t doing him any favours anymore. Yang was absolutely done with that. “So when _is_ a good time?” he begs, seeming earnest. Except Yang knows that _that’s_ a lie.

“Just _stop calling_ ,” she huffs, throwing the damn thing into her bag along with everything else, zipping it shut. From the landing below, Weiss has finally started shouting at her.

“ _Ya-ang!_ ” 

She charges out of her room, nearly colliding with Ruby, who is hastily shoving her newly found gun into her backpack. “I can shoot him for you!" she offers with a smug grin.

"Ruby-" Yang starts.

Her tone turns placating. "Y'know, just a little bit! Look, I know the whole _protective sibling_ thing is supposed to be, like, your job, ‘cause you’re older, but-”

Yang's watch beeps, and the display lights up again with that hideous pouting face. “After all we’ve been through together?!” he asks in disbelief.

“ _Goodbye,_ Cardin,” she says definitively, as she heads down the stairs with Ruby at her side. She catches the glances of her teammates as they head towards the garage. “ _No_ ,” she says firmly, “don’t get any ideas, any of you. Got it?”

None of them move for a moment. Then finally, Weiss breaks the silence. "We're going to be late. Come on."

"Thank you-" Yang sighs in relief.

"Yeah, we can just interrogate her in the car!" Ilia pipes up, and she shares a high five with Ruby.

"You guys _suck_!"

They pile into the navy blue VW convertible beetle and, mercifully, the first few minutes of the drive to the Academy is quiet - aside from the blaring rock music that Weiss is blasting through the stereo as she swerves through traffic. Yang holds up valiantly for the first half of the short drive, folding her arms and ignoring Ilia and Ruby’s shared looks from the backseat. Finally, she cracks. “Fine, I broke up with Cardin! But that does not-!”

“When do I get to kick him in the nuts?” Ilia immediately pipes up. “ _Ooh,_ I could get Pyrrha to suplex him over a bridge or something, that would be-”

“I made some modifications to my pistol that I’ve been _dying_ to try out-”

“You _what_?!” Weiss shrieks, nearly swerving into the side of a school bus. 

“Ozpin cleared it, don’t worry!” Ruby waves her hand airly, as if she’s best buds with the director.

“I doubt he would have cleared it for _target practice_ on a member of Homeland Security, Ruby!” Weiss continues to panic, forcing Yang to reach over and grab the wheel and keep the car steady.

“Nobody is shooting _anybody_ , got it?” Yang asserts firmly, shaking Weiss’ shoulder slightly. “ _Especially_ not my ex - even though he _is_ a douche.”

“He _was_ such an ass, I don’t know why you even dated him at all,” Weiss mutters under her breath as she shrugs Yang’s hand off and takes the final turn into the parking lot.

“Just convenient,” Yang shrugs as Weiss cuts off the music. “But, I dunno. After highschool, the spark was just… gone. He grew boring. Even with our careers matching up, it’s just.. I started to want more. Something like love, you know?”

“Well!” Ruby says as she hops out over the back seat, “Now that Cardin’s out of the way, I’m sure the universe will see that you’re free and open for love, right?”

“Yeah, Yang,” Ilia punches her shoulder lightly as they start up the path to the Huntress Academy. “You’re totally gonna find someone. I mean, when you look like _that?_ There’s no way the universe would let you go for long!”

“Right,” Yang rolls her eyes, pushing her way through the revolving glass door and heading towards their usual booth in the cafeteria. Where Ozpin was already seated and waiting for them.

“Heya Director O,” Ruby calls, sliding into the booth beside him.

“Ruby,” he nods at her, a small frown on his lips. “How many times have I asked you not to call me that?”

“Morning Director O,” Weiss chimes in, settling on his other side. Eager as always.

“Hi Director O!”

“Good to see you, Director O!”

Ozpin just closes his eyes for a brief brief second, as if praying for patience to handle youthful cheer so early in the morning. A short exhale through his nose, then, as he opens his eyes again, he says, “We will be having a special guest with us this morning.”

The waitress comes by and takes their orders, stalling the girls' interest towards his comment in favour of breakfast. Then, after Ilia finishes ordering her black coffee, Weiss turns back to Ozpin. “A guest?”

“Mrs. Goodwitch,” he nods, and Weiss nearly implodes.

“ _Mrs. Goodwitch?!_ ” she exclaims, looking around at her team, face glowing with shocked awe. “She _never_ comes down here!”

Underneath the table, Ilia grips Weiss’ knee, a subtle hint for her to _cool it_ . But she can’t deny it either, Mrs. Goodwitch coming down to see them is _huge_ and means something extremely important. 

A high-pitched electronic hum draws their attention towards the front of their booth, and a teleporter appears before them, beaming down _the_ Mrs. Goodwitch in the flesh, in front of their own very eyes. Ilia can feel Weiss’ knee bounce as the headmaster addresses them. “Ladies,” she begins, sharp and no-nonsense.

Weiss can’t hold back. “Mrs. Goodwitch, I just wanted to say that it is an _absolute honor_ to finally meet you in person-!”

Goodwitch holds up a hand, abruptly cutting Weiss off. “No time for pleasantries,” she says, turning to address Ozpin. Weiss immediately deflates. “Ozpin, a matter of some urgency has come to my attention. Blake Belladonna is back in the States.”

The air around the table evaporates at the grave statement. “Oh my god,” Weiss mutters.

“Oh _shit_ ,” Ilia gasps.

“You’re kidding,” Yang blurts. “That’s absolutely crazy, I’m writing my _thesis_ about her!”

Ruby turns to stare at Yang in disbelief. “ _That’s_ your first reaction to the fact that a crazy, bloodthirsty criminal is-!

“I expect to be kept in the loop on this one, Director,” Goodwitch says sternly, before clapping her hands together twice and teleporting back to wherever she originally teleported from. 

“Wow,” Yang breathes, taking in the information in complete shock. “I.. can’t believe she’s back.”

“What do we have in our files on her, Director O?” Weiss asks, getting right down to business. “If we’re going to catch her-”

“You will _not_ be sent after Belladonna in order to apprehend her, Huntresses,” Ozpin says firmly. “This mission will strictly reconnaissance until we have a better understanding of her motives for finally resurfacing.”

He reaches into his inner jacket pocket for a mini-hologram projector, pointing it at the space where Goodwitch disappeared, and called up a screen with Blake Belladonna’s information. “This woman is the height of danger, ladies. As the last surviving member of the White Fang Syndicate, her family did battle with Taurus’ network in a vicious blood feud for control over the entire crime network. It lasted over a decade, and ended when the body of Adam Taurus himself was found washed up on the shore of the Hudson River. 

“Since inheriting the keys to the White Fang after her father’s death, she has run amok with all sorts of criminal acts - illegal arms-running, smuggling, gambling and her speciality, diamond theft. All while leaving diamond dusted belladonna petals, her calling card, behind to taunt the authorities.

“Three attempts have already been made to apprehend her - all failed. Her tenacious ability to escape virtually any trap laid, combined with her loyal band of mercenaries and thugs - led by Sun Wukong - make her nearly impossible to catch,” the screen before them flickers, flashing through several photos of Blake Belladonna performing various nefarious acts in quick succession before stopping on a mugshot of a man with short spiked blonde hair and an unbuttoned shirt.

Ozpin clicks a button on his pointer, changing Blake and Sun’s portraits to stark black and white question marks. “However, several years ago, Blake Belladonna went underground, and hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”

“Yikes!” Ruby says, licking her lips nervously.

“That’s not even the bad part,” Yang replies heavily, her brows coming together to match a concerned frown.

“There’s _more_ of a bad part?” Ruby exclaims, gesturing to the list of categorized crimes displayed off to the side of the screen.

Yang nods, deferring her attention over to Ozpin. The director’s voice drops gravely as he explains, “No one has ever fought her and lived to tell about it.”

Their breakfast is delivered in a solemn silence. But as they dig into their meals, the tone turns more conversational. Relaxed. Stopping bad people like Blake Belladonna is all part of the job description, after all. “Why do you think she’s back in town?” Weiss asks around a bit of scrambled egg.

Ozpin clicks the pointer once more, and the image changes to a picture of a beautiful, if eccentric looking, woman with bright pink hair tied back into pigtails. “Our intel suggests she’s meeting this woman - Neon Katt. Ex-KGB, now a freelance assassin. They’re scheduled to meet tonight at 2000 hours. I’ll send you the location coordinates. Find out what Belladonna is up to - and once again, I must remind you that it is _imperative_ that you do not attempt to apprehend her yourselves. Surveillance only. She is ruthless. Do not underestimate her, understand?”

“Understood sir,” Weiss says with a sharp nod. 

“Good,” Ozpin says. “Weiss, you’re in charge. Yang, you’re her second.” Yang and Weiss exchange a look across the table at each other, already forming a game plan like clockwork. Ozpin turns to address the rest of the table. “And Huntresses? Be careful.” Then he too teleports away.

Silence falls once more as they all tuck back into their breakfast. Except for Yang. She studies the two side-by-side profiles on the holographic screen left behind by Ozpin intently, as if to find hidden clues within the pictures of Blake Belladonna and Neon Katt. “What does a reclusive, criminal mastermind want with a Russian trained killer?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter to work, I had to swap back and forth between Blake and Yang's POVs so hopefully that those switches aren't too jarring! I haven't done any editing to double-check stuff, so if you see any typos or anything, feel free to let me know! Hope y'all enjoy :)

**_Evil Lair, Same Time_ **

Blake stares at the massive holographic screen in front of her that displays Neon Katt's profile. In the large open warehouse around her, her henchman and thugs roam around, hauling boxes and crates and just generally doing other normal warehouse things - except that the warehouse was actually an evil lair. She drums her fingers against her desk, watching a short repeating clip - Sun had called it a _gif_ \- of Neon Katt flipping her hair and blowing the camera a kiss. 

Sun slides up beside her, glancing at her sidelong. “You’re scheduled to meet, 2000 hours,” he says, a little pointedly.

"Where'd you find her?" she asks, leaning back in her chair and folds her arms. Doing her best to appear calm and collected. Aloof.

He rests his hands on either side of Blake's chair and leans in. "Ironwood's crew tipped us off. Said she's available, in from Prague. Just relocated stateside.”

Neon Katt’s details flash across the screen. “An assassin?” Blake confirms, quirking an eyebrow.

“Check,” Sun confirms with a smirk of his own.

“Where’s the meet?” Okay. _Now_ she’s getting more nervous. Every detail Sun lays out just makes it more and more real, and she’s not sure if she can handle it. 

“Les Deux Amor,” he says with a completely unnecessary flourish, adding, “Trendy, yet _discreet_ \- according to their website, anyway.”

Blake stares at the gif, watches Neon flip her hair, blow a kiss, and everything in her just _bolts._ “Cancel it,” she says abruptly, getting up from her chair and striding away from Sun so he can’t catch the nerves flickering across her face.

Predictably, understandably, the man is completely nonplussed. “ _Why_?!” he practically shouts at her back as he chases her up the stairs to the loft. “It’s already set up, c’mon Blake!”

“I just-!” she starts, tossing the words over her shoulder, “I don't _do_ blind dates, okay?”

Sun throws his hands up in the air, “It’s not a blind date if you know what they look like!” he exclaims, exasperated. 

“Just tell her I’m not coming,” she says, then pauses. “Say I came down with something!” she finishes, like it’s the most brilliant plan in the world. 

“Blake,” Sun says seriously, tapping her on the shoulder, then pulling her around firmly when she doesn’t stop. “C’mon, it’s been two years! You have to get out there, you know?” he spreads his arms dramatically, pleading with her.

“I _am_ out there!” she protests, folding her arms belligerently. “I went out with that drummer, that girl from the band - the one that talked really loud?”

“No, no no,” Sun shakes his head, poking her in the chest to get his point across. “ _You_ didn’t go out with her, we _all_ went out together - besides! Like an hour in, you lied and said you had food poisoning and then you just went home early!”

Blake’s face scrunches in the kind of pout that Sun knows to mean that she can’t really argue his point because he’s _right_ . Even still, she finds a way to try. “Yeah well, she talked _really_ loud, like even when you were right next to her,” she tosses out nonsensically. 

Sun dodges the tangent and presses onward. “Look, Blake,” he starts reasonably, “I _know_ what you’re trying to do here.”

“And what exactly is that, Sun?” Blake asks in a dangerous voice - the tone that people associate with Crime Boss Belladonna, the one that has everyone tripping over themselves to obey her every command. But not Sun. He’s been her second-in-command ever since Adam was killed and he’s the only one who can challenge her without worrying about getting a limb cut off. Even though her murderous and maiming ways were entirely over-exaggerated. 

He puts his hands up defensively. “You’re just trying to drown yourself in your work! All your little schemes to destroy the world, all those robberies - they’re just distractions! But you just need to get over it already, alright?”

Blake rolls her eyes, frowning. “They’re not distractions,” she mutters, half-defiantly.

“You were _dumped_ ,” Sun says bluntly. “I know you thought there was something with that Nikos girl, but-”

“I was _not dumped_!” Blake growls, lifting a threatening finger in his face, which just bore an expression of patient resignation.

“Oh, you were dumped _hard_ ,” he knocks her hand away easily, pulling a tired sigh out of her. “And that sucks,” he continues calmly, knowing how hard Blake had taken that entire experience. “And you did your thing - took your time off to go to Antarctica-”

“ _Reykjavik_ , Sun,” Blake sighs, rubbing her forehead. “It’s in Iceland. I was there for like, a year? You wrote me letters?”

“Right, yeah, Rayjaclick,” Sun nods, so sure of himself. It pulls a small laugh out of Blake at his ridiculous antics. Whether or not he was doing that on purpose, sometimes his simple golden sunshine was enough to lighten up her occasionally constant brooding. “Either way! The time to get back in the game is _now,_ Blake!” he reaches out for her once more, this time bracing both of his hands on her shoulders so that he has her full attention. “So you’ve got a date tonight with a _beautiful_ Russian assassin. And you’re gonna show up. Okay?”

Blake bites her lip, wrapping an arm around herself as she weighs the pros and cons of his words. In the end, though, it’s the earnest look of reassurance on Sun’s face that finally makes her cave. “Yeah,” she mutters, giving in.

“Hm?” Sun prompts, his eyes glittering excitedly.

“I said yeah, alright?” Blake admits louder, shrugging off his grip. “Yes, fine, I’ll go, are you happy now?”

She turns to her wardrobe closet - one of many that she has in all her different lairs around the city (because you _can’t_ be unfashionable while running from the authorities) - and scans the various black on black on black, and occasionally on white and on purple, outfits hanging there. What does someone even _wear_ when meeting an assassin anyway?

“Just promise me you’ll be open!” Sun implores behind her, peeking over her shoulder.

Blake stops, hand on a leather jacket, and turns once more. “Open to what?” she asks flatly, arching her eyebrow at him pointedly.

It doesn’t dissuade Sun in the slightest. Not that Blake’s devil-may-care attitude ever does. “Open to _love_ ,” he whispers dramatically, bringing his fists up to his chest and clenching them like some poorly over-acted Shakespearean character. 

Blake just nails him with another hard look of disbelief before sifting through her closet for something to wear once more.

  
  
  


**_Huntress Stakeout, La Duex Amor, 2000 hours_ **

Several levels above the people dining at the restaurant below, the Huntresses sit on flat, swing seat style platforms that are suspended from the roof by thin cables. Blake Belladonna has yet to arrive, though they’ve managed to identify Neon Katt’s table as a point of reference. To pass the time, Weiss has brought a Huntress Academy newsletter that she’s perusing through. “Hey, check this out,” she says to Yang, holding an article out in front of her face for her to see. “Mrs. Goodwitch is _handpicking_ girls for the International Bureau!” she taps her finger against the small advert that boasts about finding Huntresses for a foreign security service. “I’m going to see if I can get an interview!”

Yang regards the proferred page with little interest. When she speaks next, her voice is a little faraway, like she’s been daydreaming. “Do you think Director Ozpin would let me take time off after Endgame?”

Weiss stops. Shakes her head. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks in sharp disbelief, like she knows what Yang is getting at, but is desperate to head her off before she even considers anything else other than being a Huntress.

Yang blows out a breath, slows her words as she answers - as if that would prevent Weiss from getting on her case. “I don’t know,” she waves her hand airly, as if her thoughts are all just big hypotheticals and not things that keep floating around in her head as she drifts off to sleep. “There’s just this… art school in Barcelona, it’s… something….” she trails off as Weiss continues to level that disbelieving stare at her.

“Art school?” she asks flatly, and Yang can’t help but shrink back just a slight bit. “Yang. You are the _perfect score._ You could have your choice of _any_ assignment you want after Endgame.”

“I suppose…,” she just mutters, falling silent and feeling kind of stupid.

Weiss reaches over and covers her hand. “Who’s your best friend?” she starts pointedly.

The corner of Yang’s lip tips up in a small smile as she covers Weiss’ hand that lays over hers. She meets her eyes. “ _You_ are my best friend,” she replies.

“And what did I say to you on our very first day at the Academy?”

Yang bites her lip, a smirk deepening the smile on her face. “ _That’s my bunk, bitch,_ ” she imitates without hesitation.

Weiss smacks her on the shoulder. Huffs out an insufferable sigh. Then continues, “ _After_ that, dumbass.”

Yang concedes, finally lets go of the sass to allow Weiss the chance to get to her point. “ _Huntresses stick together_ ,” she says solemnly with a nod.

“Precisely,” Weiss says, and even though her tone gets just a _little_ prissy, Yang lets her have this one. “We’ve been through _four years_ of hell together and now we’re finally top squad, right? Things are going well for us!”

“Yeah,” Yang reflects for a quiet moment. “They are.”

“So,” Weiss speaks up, authority in her voice, “you’re not going to ruin it all just to go to some _art school_. Am I correct?”

“Yes. Of course. You are, as always, correct,” Yang says, teasing her. “Because you’re Weiss Schnee and you know everything, always."

“Exactly right,” she says with a small harrumph as she sticks her nose in the air to play along with Yang’s goading.

Ruby can’t help but chime in from her place on Weiss’ left. At her other side, Ilia is fiddling around with her headset and microphone in preparation for Belladonna’s arrival. “Look at me,” she tilts her head up overdramatically, imitating Weiss’ snooty posture. “I’m _Weiss._ I’m squad captain, I know _facts_.” 

Yang can’t help but snicker at the affronted look on Weiss’ face as Ruby continues to giggle. Thankfully, further teasing is cut off by Ruby’s phone ringing. She sticks out her tongue at Weiss, who’s reduced to affronted spluttering, and pulls up the antenna on the device, turning the cell into a walkie talkie. “This is Ruby speaking. Over.”

“Ruby, put her on,” Cardin’s voice crackles through the walkie’s static, betraying his clear impatience and frustration. 

Ruby presses the speaker against her shirt to muffle the sound as she glances over at Yang. “It’s Cardin,” she hisses. 

Yang rolls her eyes, having already faintly heard his voice through the speaker given how close together the four of them are all sitting on their spy swing seats. “I _so_ don’t want to talk to him,” she snaps back, turning her attention onto her own headset in order to adjust its frequency. 

“She doesn’t want to talk to you. Over,” she relays back, then opens her mouth again to add. “And honestly, you’re a huge fu-”

“Y’know what,” Yang leans over perilously quickly, lurching across Weiss to snatch the walkie talkie phone out of Ruby’s hands before she would say anything that she would regret. Or, at the very least, that would mar her reputation as a Huntress. She already was having with issues earning her stripes before graduation - she didn’t need bad language to further screw up her chances. “ _Did you teach her that shit?”_ she mouths at Ilia with a disapproving glare.

Ilia just keeps her gaze trained down at her equipment, though there’s a devious little smug grin that she can’t keep from lifting the freckles that dust her cheeks.

 _Jesus_ . Yang rolls her eyes before finally turning her attention to the task at hand. Literally. She lifts Ruby’s walkie to her mouth and bites out, “Cardin, I _told_ you that it’s over. Over.” Then she flings the phone back at Ruby, who reaches out and catches it with an insane amount of dexterity.

“God,” Ilia mirrors Yang’s eye roll, “ _Men._ This puppy dog act is super fucking embarrassing for him.”

Yang nods, scowling as she just about settles her headphones over her ears - when Cardin rappels down right beside her without warning. “Yang baby, we need to talk,” he pleads.

“I’m not your _baby_ ,” Yang replies scathingly. “What the hell are you doing here anyway?”

“Aw, babe, that’s so sweet that you think that you ladies are the _only ones_ onto Blake Belladonna,” he says in such a way that he probably doesn’t even realize that he’s talking down to her. And now that Yang can see it, his smug attitude, his constant _mansplaining_ , she’s wondering why it took her this long in the first place.

“Wait-”

“The CIA, the Feds,” he points to various dark corners of the ceiling. “Everyone’s here. She’s been underground for like, two years, _of course_ everyone’s gonna be all over her.”

“Unbelievable,” Ilia mutters.

“Yeah! This was supposed to be _our_ stakeout! Mrs. Goodwitch requested us specifically!” Weiss pouts, glaring at Cardin as if all of this was entirely his fault alone.

“Can you, like, get them to give us some space?” Cardin says, as if he’s owed Yang’s sole presence. 

Yang’s jaw tightens at his arrogance, her nostrils flaring in her barely tempered rage. “Oh, don’t worry,” Weiss puts in, noticing the signs and clearing out before Cardin says anything else to escalate it further. “We are _so_ gone.” She presses a button on the control panel attached to her seat, and the three other girls zip away from them like clothes yanked sideways on a drying line.

Yang immediately lets loose. “ _Why_ do you have to be such a fucking _jerk_ about everything?!” she growls, tightening her hands around the thin cables of her swing - because if she has her hands _anywhere else_ , they’ll probably wind up around Cardin’s throat.

“Careful now,” Cardin warns, “if Weiss hears that language-”

“She would _agree_ with me,” Yang puts in.

“I just want to know where all this is coming from!” he shifts, turning back to begging, evidently hoping that maybe a softer expression would get her to simmer down.

And it does - just not for the reasons he thinks. Seeing him beg, hoping for another chance, it brings a bark of cold laughter up from Yang’s throat. “You bore me,” she states easily. Though _why_ he did, exactly, she couldn’t really put her finger on. But he didn’t need to know that.

“I _bore_ you?” he asks in disbelief.

“Is that not enough of a reason?” she throws back, then lifts up her hand. “If you say so,” she continues, counting off on her fingers, not even allowing him a second breath. “You constantly treat me and my squad like we’re a lesser security force, you literally ogle at _every_ girl in the Academy every time you come pick me up - oh, and, you brag about all the porn you watch to your buddies as a cover up for the fact that you can’t last more than fourteen seconds in bed. And yes,” she finishes savagely, “I _did_ time it.”

Cardin’s jaw hangs open. 

Across the way, Ruby has her equipment set up, amplifying microphone system pointing _clearly_ in Yang and Cardin’s direction. Ilia leans forward on her seat, taps Ruby on the shoulder. “What are they saying?” she asks eagerly. 

Ruby startles, catching herself by winding an arm around one of the cables. “I’m not gonna _spy_ on them,” she replies self-righteously, like she’s so noble.

Weiss leans in, her expression deadpan and her voice just as flat. “You _are_ a spy, dipshit.”

Ruby grimaces, clearly caught. Then just shrugs and tunes back into her sister's conversation, this time with Ilia leaning in beside her.

“So that’s it then,” Cardin carries on, and he looks angry. Something small inside Yang burns with satisfaction - _maybe he’ll get the message this time. For good._

“Yeah. We’re through.”

His lips twist in an ugly scowl, and he sets his hand on his ropes to pull himself back up to his crew. But he spits out one last dig, “I guess nobody’s good enough for Little Miss Perfect Score, huh?”

Yang just sticks her middle finger up at him as he disappears up into the rafters. “Dick,” she mutters, finally putting on her headphones and ignoring the rest of her team as they come sliding back towards her wearing expressions full of varying degrees of smugness.

  
  


Outside, Blake nervously checks her hair in the rearview mirror of Sun’s car. Technically _her_ car, but as her second-in-command, Sun chauffeurs her around in it more than she actually ever drives herself. His hand finds her shoulder, warm. Reassuring. “You can _do_ this,” he says as she glances over at him.

Blake huffs out a frustrated breath of air. “ _Why_ is it that I can hold the whole world hostage, hack into the Pentagon security networks with _ease_ , break into Fort Knox on my holiday for _fun_ \- and yet I can’t even go on one stupid blind date?!”

“Because love is harder than crime!” Sun chirrups back, squeezing her arm. He nods once, resolutely, then claps her on the shoulder. “Now go knock ‘em dead!”

Blake’s expression brightens for a second, her mouth opening to respond to that particular idea, when Sun catches himself. “No! _Shit._ Not _actually_ Blake. Sheesh. Just go,” he rolls his eyes as Blake finally, reluctantly, pushes her way out of the car and heads into the restaurant.

  
  


“Okay,” Ilia says, flagging down her teammates who are making plans with each other about how best to decimate Cardin’s remaining dignity. “She’s arrived. Heading towards the contact.”

“Alright. Good,” Weiss nods, pulling out her spy-grade binoculars. “We’ve got visuals.”

Ruby directs her microphone amplifier dish towards their table down below. “Audio is clear too.”

“Okay Belladonna,” Yang mutters, “let’s see what you’re up to.”

  
  


Blake sucks in a deep breath to calm her nerves before approaching Neon Katt’s table from behind. “Uh, hey,” she says with a forced grin - _god,_ even _she_ could tell internally that it felt more like a grimace. “Sorry, I’m late - I… got lost.”

“It’s not a problem!” the pink-haired pigtailed woman beams at her easily. “I was like, super super early!” 

“Oh,” is all Blake can say as she slips off her jacket and drapes it over the back of her chair. “Well, we’re both here now!” she adds, barely resisting the urge to stick an awkward thumbs-up as an addition to her words. _Sun would throttle me for being so awkward_ , she rolls her eyes inwardly at herself as she instead drags her thumb over the butt of her pistol strapped to her thigh for comfort.

Neon Katt just continues to blink at her as they wait for the waiter to arrive and take their orders. _This was going…. So. Well._

  
  


Above, Ruby leans over to Yang, clearly distracted. “I have that jacket,” she says, gesturing to the back of Blake’s chair.

Yang blinks. “What?”

“Belladonna’s,” she clarifies. “I have the jacket she’s wearing, but in maroon.”

“God, _maroon,_ that’s so on brand-” Yang shakes her head in bemusement, then cuts short. “Wait, you own something Belladonna has? Where did you get it?” Yang demands, because it’s suddenly very urgent for some reason that she knows where Blake Belladonna gets some of her wardrobe. It’s not like she’s been admiring her fashion sense ever since researching her for her school projects - and her extracurricular assignments and her case studies and her personal interest projects and-

“Target!” Ruby says brightly, snapping Yang out of her thoughts.

“ _Really_ ?” she gapes, because how could someone make _Target_ clothes look so fashionable? “No way.”

Ruby just bobs her head in a nod, shrugging, “If you’re not busy after this, we can go-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Ilia snaps from the other side of Weiss - who is pointedly ignoring her team’s antics to focus intently on the mission, as per usual.

Yang and Ruby exchange a look as they fall silent, before turning their attention back to the stakeout. 

  
  


“I’ll uh… have the signature fish plate?” Blake says, more insecure than she means it to come out. She’s a _crime boss_ for god’s sake, she shouldn’t be afraid of ordering her own dinner. To help her confidence, she tacks on in a spur of the moment decision, “And some wine. A bottle of your finest red. Do-” she turns to Neon, flashing a tight smile. “Uh, do you.. want some wine as well?”

“Vodka,” Neon smirks at her, as if sensing her discomfort and capitalizing on it for a moment of fun. 

Blake sneers at her for a long moment, then remembers Sun’s warning. _Don’t_ kill her. Right. “And uh, vodka,” she adds to the waiter, who disappears promptly.

They stare at each other for another long moment in an awkward silence. Neon seems perfectly content just to keep it that way, but Blake frantically racks her brain for something from her file that she can use as a conversation topic. “So you’re an assassin!” she blurts out, and immediately wants to disappear. 

“Yep!” Neon says with a short pop of her lips, then leaves it at that. 

_Not much of a conversationalist,_ Blake groans - but then again, coming from her own personality, that observation is saying something. Or, rather, it’s _not_ saying something. Oh boy. “So… how does that work, exactly?”

Neon shrugs. “It’s mostly freelance.”

Blake processes this information, a little intrigued. She’d never had a thirst for blood despite what people thought about her. But after Adam, she let them think it. Kept people in line. “So like, you just kill… whoever?”

“Sometimes maim, those are fun! More often just maiming, they often fess up with a little bit of pressure,” Neon says. “Kinda pathetic, I mean, you cut off one pinky toe and suddenly it’s _oh no please, no more!_ Then they tell you that they cheated on their wife - whatever.”

Blake goes back to staring uncomfortably. “Right…”

  
  


“God, this is the weirdest business transaction I’ve ever heard,” Weiss mutters, nudging back one of her earphones to talk Yang. 

Yang keeps her gaze trained through the binoculars intently. She lifts a shoulder in a single approximation of a shrug. “It’s… _fascinating_ ,” she puts in, not really aware of how it sounds. She doesn’t even take in Weiss’ incredulous expression thrown her way as she continues. “I mean, here she is, _Blake Belladonna,_ notorious crime boss and mastermind thief, in front of our very eyes, doing what she does best. She’s _real._ God this is great research for my thesis.”

Weiss just stares. But Yang’s too wrapped up in staring through her binoculars and listening in on the exchange below to notice anything else.

“God! When are they gonna get to the _good_ part?” Ilia complains, reaching into her pocket and unwrapping a lollipop. Jams it into her mouth. “Like, when is she gonna slip Katt a note with an address or a name that tells her Belladonna’s next target? I need juicy details so I can report back to Pyrrha and sound impressive!”

“Because _that’s_ the reason why we do this important work, yes,” Weiss rolls her eyes, glancing back and forth between Ilia and Yang. There was a certain similarity there that she wasn’t sure if anyone else saw just yet. And especially not Yang.

  
  


Asking about Neon’s work apparently opened a whole _floodgate_ of chatter that Blake was in no way, shape or form ready for. “-and sure, going into someone’s house in the middle of the night with a big machete is fun and all, but honestly, I just mostly do it to pay the bills, y’know?”

“Killing… to pay bills?” Blake asks, unable to stop her eyebrows lifting in muted shock. “You haven’t thought of just… working a desk job? We could use a receptionist back at my main lair, actually-” _Offering her a job opportunity on a_ date, _seriously_ ? Oh Sun would _really_ have her head for blowing this so badly.

“And miss the screams of terror? Dream on!” Neon suddenly leans back and laughs uproariously, nearly startling Blake out of her chair. She winces while Neon’s distracted, relaxing her grip on her gun that she’d grabbed as an instinctive reaction and takes a steadying sip of wine instead. 

“Right…,” she says again, fully aware that she sounds like a broken record at this point. But Neon’s still too busy chuckling to herself to catch Blake’s default discomfort response.

Then the laughter stops, and Neon leans in, getting very serious very quickly. “Honestly, I just wanna like, be a professional dancer, you know? Like hip hop, breakdancer - something like that!”

Blake takes in a slow breath, nerves finally gone and _agony_ in their place. She almost misses the butterflies. Then, without warning, Neon throws back the rest of her vodka shot, stands from the table abruptly, and attempts to do a headspin on the floor.

  
  


“Is that some kind of signal?” Ruby leans forward, a frown on her face as she adjusts her headset to catch any conversation between Belladonna and Katt, but all that she could make out were the sudden gasps from the tables around them. 

“It’s a perfect distraction if it is,” Weiss mutters, readying her rappelling rope and nodding at her squad to do the same. “Ladies, be ready-”

Cardin drops down beside Yang completely out of nowhere as Yang secures her carabiner to the loop of the harness concealed beneath her skirt. “Are you fu-”

“You still have my father’s bracelet,” he says abruptly. “The one he got after graduating from Quantico?”

“You’re kidding,” Yang glares, tugging on her rope to make sure everything’s tight and secure. “We’re _a little busy_ right now - you know, taking _our job_ seriously?”

“It’s a family heirloom, Yang,” he snaps, putting his hand out impatiently. “Can I just-?”

“God, _fine_ ,” Yang gives in, only because they need to keep all eyes on Belladonna in case she pulls something during Katt’s demonstration. “I only kept wearing it because it looked cool, not because-”

She lifts her wrist and tugs on the chain, too angry to even bother with the clasp and the whole thing _snaps -_ proving what Yang had suspected all along, that it was just a fancy piece of costume jewelry. She would’ve laughed at the irony and symbolism of the whole thing - fake bracelet, fake relationship - except she’s too busy staring in horror as the bracelet falls down amongst the diners below.

And lands directly in Blake Belladonna’s fish plate.

  
  


“I had, like, looked into an ad posting one day, you know? Promised the best instruction from the greatest dancer in Russia!” Neon carries on, gesturing wildly. Blake takes a bracing gulp of her wine, trying desperately to maintain at least _some_ respectable eye contact. Because eye contact meant interest, right? She could handle that. “But I couldn’t afford the price, so I begged him to tell me if there was anything I could do to be taught by him - which is when he like, totally confided in me, you know? Told me that his wife was cheating on him, and if I killed her lover, he would give me free lessons.”

She _so_ couldn’t handle it. She reaches over to the wine bottle, now nearly half empty, and tops up her glass. Tries to hide her now very obvious pained grimaces.

“So, like, I got creative, you know? The first guy was a goat farmer or something, so I grabbed some goat sheers from his shed, cut off all his hair, then-” Neon cuts herself off. It’s at this point that she’s finally noticed Blake’s discomfort. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I just-” Blake stumbles through an explanation, scrambling for an excuse. Lands on an old faithful. “I just… think I ate something off, y’know, I’m feeling a little sick. I think I might have food poisoning.”

“Are you blowing me?!” Neon exclaims shrilly.

“I- _what_ ?” Blake gapes - because honestly, _that’s_ a new one.

“Off!” she corrects, distraught. “Are you blowing me off?!”

“No! No, no, honestly I’m not-” Blake lies through her teeth, trying to reassure the frantic woman across from her before she causes too much of a scene.

Thankfully, she’s saved from finding any further pathetic excuses when a loud _clank_ of metal on fine china slams the rest of the conversation to a halt. In front of her, amongst the remains of her fish bones, is a tacky silver bracelet. 

Neon stares at her as Blake lifts the chain up out of her fish with her fork. Then the two of them slowly turn their gaze upwards to the ceiling. And spot the secret service agents dangling from the rafters. “Huntresses. _Shit_ ,” Blake hisses, her hand slowly going to the pistol at her thigh.

  
  


“Gun! She’s going for her gun,” Ilia warns, all four of them immediately aiming their weapons down below.

“Don’t shoot unless she does,” Weiss warns, terse. 

Beside them, Cardin levels his pistol at Belladonna, and Yang feels a tiny bite of relief. At the very least, he always took his job seriously, and she could count on him and the rest of his team for cover if need be.

There’s a long tense moment where Blake’s hand stays on her holster, ready for the quick draw if absolutely necessary - but she’s hoping to avoid further escalation. If the Huntresses had been here the whole time but hadn’t shot, it must’ve meant that they were ordered to strictly gather intel only. And for the sake of the civilians in the restaurant, Blake wants to avoid a fire fight.

“Don’t draw your weapon,” Blake warns Neon. “We might be able-”

A cork pops loudly in celebration a few tables over, and one of the agents in the rafters mistakes it for a gun shot and opens fire.

Screams erupt.

“Let’s do this,” Weiss tells her team, and they slide smoothly off their seats and rappel down to the restaurant floor, shooting at the target’s table as they go. Civilians scatter around them as they drop to the floor, untether themselves, and try to get a clean shot on Blake and Neon as they dive behind the glass bar. Bottles explode on the display shelves behind as the bullets fly.

Amidst the barrage, crouched together and waiting for a chance to return fire, Neon turns to Blake as they ready their guns. “Was it something I said?” she asks desperately, clearly unperturbed by the turn of events.

“No! No, it’s just-” a huge bottle of rum shaped like a canon-ball shatters above their heads. “I just got back in town, you know - and I just, well I just got out of this relationship-” _Two years ago,_ Sun’s voice echoes disbelievingly in her head.

“I’m not _asking_ for a relationship!” Neon screeches, popping up above the cover of the bar and fires on the Huntresses. Blake pokes her head up and over and finds that they’ve taken cover behind the table that her and Neon had previously been sitting at. She takes a couple potshots at their cover, barely taking in the appearances of her assailants so she knows who to avoid - though she knows those plaid Huntress skirt and ties anywhere.

A bullet whizzes dangerously close over her head and they both duck back down as the Huntresses close in on them. “It’s not you, really! You seem like a really nice person and all, it’s just me, I…,” her jaw snaps shut. _Afraid of commitment._ That’s really what it was.

“I’m sure we can work something out!” Neon implores as she reloads her gun. In the mirror behind the bar, spiderwebbed with cracks from bullet holes, Blake spots the Huntresses nearly on top of them. _Time to improvise_ , she thinks, then pulls out a smoke bomb.

“I’m just-!” Blake starts, ripping the pin out with her teeth. She lobs it over her head, over the bar, and hears it rattle on the floor. “I’m not interested!” she exclaims over the sounds of the Huntresses screaming and taking cover.

Neon stares at her, a frown forming as she tilts her head. “Then you’ll, like, totally be the one who dies alone - not me!” With that, she sticks out her tongue, flips Blake off, and then vaults over the bar and disappears into the smoke.

Blake blinks. Processes. Then shrugs and mutters, “Yeah, time to go.” With the smoke from her grenade dissipating - and fast - she makes a dash for the other side of the bar, keeping as low as possible as she heads to the emergency exit that she had made a note of prior to sitting down with Neon. 

“I see her!” a shrill voice yells just off to her left. _Close_ to her left. _A Huntress._

“Nowhere to run, Belladonna!” another voice, male, sounds from the balcony. Someone from the CIA? _Shit_ . She _really_ had to get out of here.

She holsters her gun, spying a small round table just behind the bar that looks like it’s a place for patrons to place their empty bottles and dirty cups for the barista to conveniently clean throughout the night. _That’ll do_ , she nods to herself, sweeping the whole thing clear and hefting it up to shoulder height. It feels sturdy - and just in time too.

The smoke clears just as Blake starts making a run for it - _straight shot to the wall then under the balcony to service tunnel,_ she reminds herself - and, with line of sight restored, the bullets fly towards her. 

“C’mon Blake, _hurry_ ,” she hisses at herself as she does her best to make herself as small a target as possible. 

“C’mon girls, let’s go - hurry up!” Weiss exclaims as she reloads her gun with a fresh clip with the ease that defined her as top marksman of their class. 

“She’s heading for the service exit - where does that lead?” Ilia says, a lollipop still miraculously and firmly placed between her lips. 

“Parking lot. And there’s a second exit through a warehouse,” Weiss says quickly, catching Ilia’s eye and tipping her head towards the back as she points in the other direction. “Ilia, you and I will cover the parking lot, Yang and Ruby, you two-”

“Ozpin _specifically_ ordered us not to engage her!” Ruby interjects nervously.

Weiss holds up a hand, cutting her off as she closes her eyes as if praying for patience. “Ruby,” she starts. Then stops for a long moment, considering something. “Who here isn’t going to graduate?”

“Oh here we go,” Yang mutters.

“Me,” Ruby answers easily. It’s been made abundantly clear on multiple missions now. 

“And exactly _why_ is that?” Weiss continues, her tone dangerously light.

“I haven’t earned my stripes,” Ruby continues the script. Off to the side, Ilia folds an arm over her chest, popping the lollipop out of her mouth with an overtly obnoxious _pop_.

“Weiss, we _really_ don’t have time-” Yang implores. 

Weiss ignores her, proferring one of the straps of her tank top out towards Ruby, where an enamel pin displaying three upside-down navy blue V’s. “And would that perhaps be this thing here?” Ruby nods again dutifully. “And _why_ haven’t you earned your stripes yet, exactly?”

“You need to give me a recommendation,” Ruby finishes the fill-in-the-blanks conversation, then leans forward earnestly to add her own revisions, “I don’t see why you don’t just-”

Weiss tsks her sharply, lifting a finger abruptly and cutting her off once more. “Enough! That’s not what I asked.”

Ruby pouts, a dejected frown overtaking her face. “Fine,” she gives. “I need to show _courage in the face of unspeakable danger_ ,” she quotes, right out of the Huntress Handbook.

“Exactly,” Weiss nods approvingly. She lifts an eyebrow as Ruby silently glowers at her. “So quit your whining. And just follow my orders.”

Ruby nods.

“Oh, thank god okay, c’mon. Let’s _go_ ,” Yang says anxiously, rushing forward and grabbing Ruby by the arm. Weiss’ power trip cost them enough time - Belladonna could be _long gone_ by now.

They burst through the door onto a service ramp, presumably for delivery trucks. “Okay, that’s the main entrance,” Yang gestures with her gun. “You go around through the back door, I’ll cover the main entrance here and we’ll meet in the middle of the warehouse. Stay within communication range, and _wait for my backup_ if you spot her. Got it?”

“I- uh,” Ruby swallows nervously.

Yang gives her little sister a quick hair ruffle. “You can do this, Rubes. Now c’mon.” She grins before turning to the warehouse and gingerly pushing open the door and heading through, gun first.

She’s greeted by walls of made out of tall-standing cylindrical rolls of paper. Stacked and lined up all in their rows like that, it looks more like a maze than anything else. Her mind briefly wanders to the logic behind the set-up, if this was a way to keep unwanted eyes from discovering anything truly nefarious - before frowning at herself. “You’re tracking _Blake Belladonna_ ,” she mutters, keeping her gun drawn and at the ready. “Y’know, like your dream ever since joining up as a Huntress?” Yet even as she ducks around corners, pointing her gun at every shadow that flickers, she couldn’t bring herself to feel fear really. Her heart’s pounding, sure, but not out of terror. Exhilaration? 

She stops behind yet another wall of tall paper rolls. Checks her communications device, built into her watch. “Ruby, you there?” Pauses, and gets nothing back but crackling static. “Ruby?” No answer. _Shit_.

She picks up her pace, knowing full well that Ruby _can_ handle herself, that Weiss is just unnecessarily hard on her, but worries all the same. If nothing else, Yang will clear the warehouse, head through the back entrance, and hope that the other girls had apprehended Blake Belladonna in the parking lot - and that her communications were just blocked by the building’s metal walls. 

Up ahead, Yang finally spots a door. Ruby doesn’t look like she’s anywhere near it, so Yang throws caution to the wind and makes a dash for it-

Only to collide nearly headfirst into someone else, knocking them both to the ground. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching-”

“No, no, I’m sorry I should’ve been-”

Yang rolls over first, trying to regain her bearings after having the wind knocked slightly out of her. Thankfully, her training as a Huntress has put her through harder impacts - mostly courtsey of Weiss - and she lifts herself back up with ease.

And comes face to face with Blake Belladonna herself.


End file.
